


No Time Soon

by weshouldcallthisonethomas



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Meet-Not Cute, Probably some historical inaccuracies, enemies to lovers speedrun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25791541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weshouldcallthisonethomas/pseuds/weshouldcallthisonethomas
Summary: They kill and they die, how many times must they do this?-It's another how they met fic I'm obsessed I'm sorry xx
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 3
Kudos: 76





	No Time Soon

Yusuf wakes up spluttering. He rolls over, retching, as the midday sun beats down on the back of his neck. But he feels no pain, his hands fly to where the sword had pierced into his gut and he finds nothing. Not even a scar. Skin smooth and flat.

He stumbles to his feet and looks around the abandoned battlefield, covered in bodies of Moors and Crusaders alike, the birds picking at them indiscriminately. Yusuf begins to make his way out when he hears movement from beside him. The crusader stirs and Yusuf recognizes him as the one who killed him, and who he had killed in return. The one who he had seen in visions and dreams, who he was destined to kill. Yusuf draws his scimitar before the crusader even has time to stand up and slashes it across his throat. The light flickers from behind the crusaders green eyes and Yusuf thinks, surely, he must be dead now.

-

Yusuf sees him again, on another battlefield. How could this be? Another man back from the dead? The crusader has righteous fury in his eyes as he bashes everyone else out of the way so he can bear down on Yusuf, who mirrors his anger perfectly. They fight to the death as before; Yusuf slashes the crusader’s throat as his sword pierces his own ribcage. Yusuf falls to the ground with the crusader next to him.

When Yusuf comes to, the only thing he sees is the crusader preparing to kill him once more. Anger and adrenaline surge through him to try and keep him alive but he does not succeed, and he once again succumbs to the dark, cold of death.

-

This goes on for months. Yusuf kills the crusader, and he reappears days later to strike him down. They kill each other and wake up, side by side, both decidedly not dead, and try to kill each other once again. This must be a test from God, Yusuf thinks, to find and kill this man over and over again, until one of them stays dead. And so, he continues.

Yusuf learns how the crusader fights, that he is quicker than he looks but not as quick as Yusuf, he does not move his feet to dodge Yusuf’s parries enough and maintain balance, but his strength is his greatest asset. Yusuf finds himself looking for him through every fight he has with the invaders. By now, he has realised he cannot die by the sword of man, he will wake up every time. And so, he looks towards the man who must be like him. Yusuf is excited by fighting this man, their battles still have the aggression but now it feels more like a dance, with both of them knowing how the other will react to anything one puts forward, and lethal choreography that nobody around them understands, but still they watch in awe and reverence.

Until one day, when he is tired from the fight and needs to know why they keep doing this, Yusuf decides to stay after the crusader has been killed. They are on the edge of the field, unnoticed by their generals long after the fighting was over. Yusuf sits a few feet away from him, and places both their weapons by his side so the crusader cannot try anything when he wakes up. 

After a few minutes he stirs and looks over at Yusuf, then at the weapons, most likely confused as to why Yusuf has not attempted to murder him again. 

“I am tired of killing a man who will not die.” Yusuf says in answer to his silent question, but the man clearly does not understand so he repeats again, in Italian. “I am Yusuf.”

The man points to his chest. “Niccolò.” He sits up and stares at Yusuf for a long while. “I am also tired. Of fighting an unwinnable war, against the only man who knows what it is like to come back from the dead.”

Yusuf stands up and stretches his hand out to Niccolò, who takes it and stands up. Yusuf never really took the time to see what he looked like. Pale skin, and long flowing dark hair, a hooked nose with dark green eyes at the same level as his. 

“I am hungry, there is a small village a few miles from here. Away from the city, from the fighting.” Yusuf offers, his Italian is not perfect but what he learned from trading is enough. 

Niccolò nods. “I will follow you.”

And so, Yusuf leads until they get to the village. They walk in silence, but both carefully watch each other, and their surroundings, although Yusuf expects no betrayal from Niccolò, he seems sincere in that he does not want to go back to the tiresome cycle of death and rebirth that they had just emerged from. 

They arrive at the village, and Yusuf suggests they both sell their armour to the local innkeeper, because it is not as if they need it anyway, and they do not want to be perceived as aggressors. After all this fighting, Yusuf is happy to just get a good meal in him. They eat together what is offered from the innkeeper, which is not anything special, but after what seems like an eternity fighting an unwinnable war, is the best thing either of them have ever tasted.

“So, where are you from, crusader?” Yusuf asks, when they have finished. 

Niccolò looks up, as though he had not expected Yusuf to strike conversation with him. “Genova” he replies. “Although when I left on that ship, I expected it to be the last time I ever saw the city. I do not want to return.”

Yusuf nods in agreement. There was nothing left for him in his city when he came to fight, the first time he died it felt like a relief, like his purpose had been fulfilled. And then he woke up.

“I thought I was going to die there, for my God. But now I know I can’t do that I do not know why God has kept my alive.” Niccolò continues, “I thought I was supposed to kill you, Yusuf.”

“You tried your best,” Yusuf chuckles. “Many times. Maybe there is another reason for us to be brought together. Our connection is more powerful than that of any enemies I have ever known.” 

Niccolo’s eyes just seem lost as they capture Yusuf’s. The nature of that connection hangs plainly in the air between them. He stands up swiftly. “I am going to sleep now, talk of philosophy always makes me weary.” And he departs up the stairs, leaving Yusuf to think on the matter himself.

-

In the morning, they decide to move on quickly. North-west, away from Jerusalem and back to Europe, away from the fighting. They were both sure to avoid saying where they were headed, just where the next step would take them. They kept their swords and packs, but traded all their armour for coins and food, extra clothes. Neither of them had need for more.

They walked until midday when Yusuf suggested they seek shelter from the midday sun. A small cave just off the road in the mountainside does the trick. They both quickly fall asleep in the cool shadow of the cave.

-

Yusuf is woken violently, to an arrow in his throat. Before he dies, he sees Niccolò beside him filled with fear and anger, a sword already drawn.

-

The next thing he knows, his head is in Niccolò’s lap, and Niccolò’s forehead pressed to his own. He is whispering something in a language Yusuf does not understand, it sounds like a prayer though. He looks around to see bodies strewn across the cave floor. They look like crusaders.

“Oh, thank god, I thought you had died!” Niccolò exclaims and embraces Yusuf.

“I thought you knew we couldn’t do that,” Yusuf teases, to which Niccolò just gives him a disparaging look.

“I only knew you couldn’t die by my hand; I did not realise how far that would extend,” he explains softly.

“What happened here?” Yusuf asks.

“Some of the men from my battalion rode past and recognised me. They thought that you had kidnapped me, and they… Shot you to try to free me,” Niccolò said almost sheepishly. “But the thought that I had just realised you were not meant to die, that we were destined for something else together, just to have you taken away so quickly… It angered me.”

Yusuf could see the anger return to his eyes at the mere thought of it. It was not difficult to see him capable of slaying his own countrymen in that moment. Niccolò was a battle-hardened warrior. Yusuf reached his hand up to smooth Niccolò’s eyebrow, and he immediately softened. “It is okay, I do not think I will be dying any time soon.”

It took no effort at all for Yusuf to close the small gap between them and gently touch Niccolò’s lips to his own. 

And oh… Maybe this is why they were brought together, not to fight but to love. Tenderness flowed between them as Niccolò leaned into Yusuf’s touch, and all the world melted away until this kiss was the only thing that ever was, and the only thing that ever could be. 

Niccolò pulled away. “No. You will not.”

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I've come crawling out of the woodwork to write this because I'm gay and sad and procrastinating. I haven't really written in years but I needed to put my own version down. Might even write more who knows?
> 
> Feedback apppreciated!!


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